Amorphous Amour
by starlitkoneko
Summary: a·mor·phous: of no particular kind or character; indeterminate; having no pattern or structure; unorganized. a·mour: an illicit or secret love affair.  Thiefshipping. YGOTAS characters. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Secret

"Hey, hey, Bakura," Marik's voice broke through to the half-asleep albino and he felt a light pain in his shoulder. He opened one eye lazily and, sure enough, the Egyptian was leaning over him and poking his arm with the tip of the Millenium Rod. The blade was not exposed, but the idiot _was_ irritating his recently healed injury.

"What is it, Marik?" Bakura grumbled, swatting the Rod away. Marik regarded it with a pout.

"Well, I was just wondering," he twirled the Rod around in one hand like a baton, leaving Bakura to wonder how he hadn't dropped it yet. "You haven't been going to shoot any new episodes of Zorc & Pals lately."

Bakura sighed. "I told you, already, Marik: it was cancelled."

"What?" the tanned boy shrieked and aimed the head of the Rod at his 'partner' accusatively. "When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me? How come I never got to make a super sexy cameo appearance?"

Bakura ignored every question, especially that last one. "The final episode was never released, but I kept the director's copy. It's in my r…"

His drowsiness trailed off along with his voice as he caught himself on the brink of permitting Marik entrance to his room. He was almost certain he had nothing to hide, but the damage that hyperactive excuse of a villain could do would be irreparable.

"I'll go find it!" Marik chirped, already bounding out of the makeshift living room. Bakura leapt from the battered recliner and chased after his companion, racing past him and blocking the entrance to his room. Marik pursed his lips in a pout once more.

"I'll find it," Bakura said sternly. "It'll be quicker that way."

"And it'll be _even_ quickier if I help!" Marik pounded a fist against his own chest proudly. Bakura thought about telling him 'quickier' wasn't a word, but started having thoughts about quickies with Marik in his room instead.

"No," the brit said finally, twisting to hide his face in his hair just in case. "Go wait in the parlour."

Marik tilted his head, "where?"

"The living room, you prat."

Marik frowned. "Come again?"

"Go sit in front of the television!" Bakura snapped, disappearing into his room with a slam of the door.

Marik did as he was told and Bakura returned to find the Egyptian with his legs bent against his chest, one arm around them, leaning forward, and fingering the opening to the VCR. Bakura emitted the smallest chuckle, earning the boy's attention, but when Marik turned suddenly he pulled his finger back and got it stuck in the device. Bakura had less than two seconds to recognize the look in the other's eyes and snatch the Rod from his reach before it could be used as a hammer on their already-suffering dust-covered technology.

"Give it back, Bakura!" Marik whined, yanking his trapped hand and consequently tightening the hold the VCR mouth had on it. He began to spew a string of curses in either Arabic or Egyptian; it was too incoherent to tell.

"Calm down, Marik," Bakura hissed, kneeling beside his friend and stretching an arm across his shoulders. "Look," he pointed, "See what's happening? The door folds down to close, so each time you pull you're only closing it more."

Marik's eyes widened, "then how do I get it off?"

Bakura studied him for a moment to ascertain he was serious, then sighed. "Push forward"

Marik looked at his hand and back to Bakura skeptically. "Why would I?"

"Just do it."

Again, Marik did as he was told. The cover tilted inward and his eyes lit up. "I'm fr—_igging Hell_, Bakura! It didn't work!"

Bakura slapped his face into his palm. As soon as Marik had sensed freedom, he'd yanked his hand back and lodged it in the console once more. Before the Egyptian could do more damage, Bakura gripped his shoulder tightly and grumbled, "Only you could be this stupid, Marik."

Marik winced at the touch but didn't hear the words. Bakura jolted his companion's arm forward, earning a sassy cry of pain from the other which he ignored. He held the VCR open and allowed Marik to remove his hand and jump away flamboyantly. Bakura sat back and watched the inevitable fit unfold as Marik wagged his injured finger at the device offensively.

"We… we need to get rid of that thing, Bakura! It… owwwww…" Marik drew in his hand, cradling it with the other and gazing down at his scraped knuckle. He attempted to make a fist and winced when the damaged skin threatened to split. "Well, that's just great," he glared at Bakura, "I always hold my Rod in this hand!"

Bakura choked on shock as that sentence translated to the unintended meaning in his mind. He rose quickly and strode over to Marik, gripping the latter by the shoulders and shoving him onto the couch. Marik made a small noise of annoyance but stayed where he was thrown, his eyes switching between his hand and his housemate who was investigating the VCR before putting in the tape he'd retrieved. For a moment, Marik had forgotten what it was they were watching, then the picture began to come in.

_Bakura was sitting in his tall red and gold chair and adjusting the collar of his black trench coat. Voices could be heard off-screen. _

"Who's that talking, Bakura?" Marik asked.

"That's the audience, mostly," Bakura said thoughtfully. "That louder voice is the director."

Marik listened for the louder voice.

_"We've got one minute till our first take, guys," the louder voice said. "Florence, are you ready?"_

_Bakura scowled. "Not really, I need to talk to Zorc before…"_

_"No can do, Flor, he's already in position." _

Marik giggled. "He called you Flor."

"Yes, he did, Mar…"

"_Flor~_" he echoed, giggling harder. "It makes you sound gay! Oh, wait…"

Bakura sighed and eased into the recliner.

_Their argument had ceased and Bakura looked troubled. As the cameraman could be heard counting down to 'action', the spirit sighed and put on his best smirk._

_The camera panned to Zorc who bellowed his first line, "and now it's time to destroy the world… again!"_

_Bakura crossed his arms, "Zorc, you've destroyed the world over a dozen times now. I'm not sure how you even managed it, but it's starting to get rather dull."_

_"But, you used to love it when I destroyed the world!" Zorc protested._

_"Yes," Bakura agreed, "it used to excite me, but now it feels as though that's all we have. It's like we don't really have anything in common anymore." _

Marik glanced at Bakura who seemed to be watching through glazed eyes. He bit back his question.

_"…and crushing those who stand against us," Zorc was saying. There was a pause before Bakura spoke._

_"Zorc… there's someone else." _

Marik gasped along with the audience and leaned in intently. Bakura offered him a curious glance.

_"I've started seeing another villain, and believe it or not he _doesn't_ want to destroy the world."_

_"Well, good, because I already did that!" Zorc replied snidely. The audience laughed. Bakura didn't._

_"I'm breaking up with you, Zorc."_

_"This is the saddest day of my life!" Zorc cried, "I must find a way to express my misery."_

_"Let me guess," Bakura rolled his eyes, "you're going to destroy the world?"_

_"Ye… no!" Zorc's eyes glowed angrily. "I'm going to destroy… the studio audience! Feel my wrath!" _

Marik's eyes flashed as they reflected the ball of fire that flew off-screen. The feed cut and he gaped at Bakura who was eyeing him with false apathy.

"Who are you seeing, Bakura?"

Brown eyes widened. He hadn't expected the Egyptian to pick that out after Zorc's display of misery, but it would be untrue to say he wasn't intrigued. "Why does that matter?"

"We're supposed to be partners!" Marik cried, jumping upand pointing dramatically. "Partners tell each other everything!" he strode over and gripped the collar of Bakura's tee. "Who are you seeing, Bakura? How long have you been with him? Is he prettier than me?"

Bakura licked his lips and pressed them into a fine line. He grasped one of Marik's wrists and squeezed it tightly. "Let go."

Marik let go and pressed his open palms against Bakura's chest instead, leaning over now with their faces mere inches apart. Bakura had half a mind to trigger to recliner's footrest which would send Marik tumbling into his lap, but decided against it. He sighed and stared into Marik's eyes.

"Well, I'm not sure how long I've been with him," he started slowly. "Sometimes it feels like we just met, other times I can't remember life without him."

Marik's eyes widened with great interest as he reveled in this rare moment of openness. Bakura smirked.

"He's not too bright, and I don't think he's spent a day of his life by himself. His brother is always trying to protect him."

"Does his brother like you?" Marik asked. Bakura thought about it and shook his head.

"I'm not sure, really. He's never mentioned our relationship."

Marik nodded, "go on. What does he look like?"

Bakura's eyes narrowed, then softened as he brushed a loose, sandy blonde lock behind tanned ears. "He's got pale hair… nowhere near as pale as mine, though…" Bakura traced a finger down Marik's jawline. "He's kind of girly," brown eyes trailed down the slender body which was bent effeminately. "Good figure though…" his voice trailed, then he returned his gaze to Marik's eyes and smirked. "He likes to show off his midriff."

"Just like me!" Marik stood proudly and stretched his arms in the air, lifting his cropped shirt even higher.

"Yes," Bakura agreed, thinking quickly, "he's dark-skinned, too."

Marik's eyes widened in awe, then snapped shut as crossed his arms stubbornly. "I'll bet it's not real! Everybody wants a tan nowadays, they're all realizing how sexy it is to have sun-kissed skin, but they're all too lazy to do it the right way so they get those fake orange tans or go to booths and get burned…" he suddenly tore off his shirt and pointed to his shoulders, "they get lines here, and here… I mean, how lazy can you be! It's not that hard to at least get the upper body right."

Bakura caught himself gaping and snapped his jaw shut, clearing his throat loudly. "Yes, well…"

"And don't even get me started on lower bodies!" the Egyptian continued to rant, one hand on his hip and the other waving to emphasize his words. "I know it's hard but if you don't want to tan everywhere then you shouldn't tan at all. I laid out in the sun for hours to make sure my tan was even. See? I'll show you."

Bakura sputtered something that wanted to be Marik's name and any word of protest. The Egyptian paused in the midst of undoing his belt and glanced at his friend quizzically.

"What's the matter, Bakura?" he asked, then had a realization before the other could speak, "Oh, I know! You don't want to see me naked because you'll feel like you're cheating on your boyfriend! Well, I don't want to make you any more attracted to me than you already are, I'll just put my shirt back on."

Bakura sighed. He was used to Marik's ignorance and arrogance by now but that unexpected rant ruined the smooth transition he'd been trying to make into revealing his feelings. Now, they were a step ba…

"Oof!" Bakura's body jolted as Marik swung himself over the arm of the recliner and landed promptly in his lap, grinning like the idiot he was. Bakura strongly willed his blood to lie dormant; flowing north meant he'd blush, opening a new can of worms for the Egyptian to play with. Flowing south…

"So, come on!" Marik bounced, "tell me more about your lover. You still haven't told me if he's sexier than me, even though I know that's not possible. Oh! Does he know we're living together? You have to make sure to tell him I'm not gay so he won't worry about me."

Bakura's head was spinning and he groaned in annoyance (as well as to release the moan that threatened to escape every time Marik's pert bottom left and returned to his crotch). Marik stopped and eyed him suspiciously.

"Wait a minute," rusty gears seemed to be turning then jammed again, "if you're in a relationship, how am I just finding out about it now? We spend almost every day together!"

Bakura decided only blunt hints could work now, "I see him almost every day, Marik."

Lavender eyes widened. "How is that possible? Do you sneak out at night?" he gasped suddenly, "is he staying in your room? He is, isn't he? That's why you never let me go in there!" he looked through the entrance to the living room and narrowed his eyes as his brain continued to work in its unique way. "Wait a minute… if you've been hiding another person here, why haven't I seen him?"

Bakura shrugged, "I'm not sure, he certainly parades around enough."

Marik tensed, "so he _is_ living here! Oh, Bakura, how many other secrets are you keeping from me?"

"Just one," Bakura mused. Marik suddenly wrinkled his nose.

"Not that I'm complaining," he premised, "but if your boyfriend has been living with you, why haven't I ever heard you having sex?"

Bakura fixed his gaze on the blonde. "We haven't done it yet."

Marik drew back skeptically. "I don't think I believe that."

Bakura nodded, "it's true," now his own mental gears began turning, "go ask him yourself."

"Fine, I will!" Marik twisted his body and hopped off the recliner. Bakura rolled his eyes back and closed them tight, biting back the moan provoked by the Egyptian's ass grinding against his crotch when he'd turned. His thoughts were cut short but the piercing demand, "Are you coming?"

Brown eyes opened wide and the spirit's mind worked quickly to decipher the real reason for the question. He glanced over and saw Marik waiting at the parlour doorframe and nodded slowly, rising to follow his partner.

"How do I know he won't lie to me?" Marik asked as they approached Bakura's room.

"Trust me," Bakura steadied his voice and his nerves, "you'll know."

Marik quirked a brow then shrugged and gripped the door handle. Before turning it he glanced back over his shoulder. "Maybe you should go in first. He hasn't met me yet and it might be awkward…"

"It'll be awkward either way," Bakura replied tensely. "Besides, he's seen you, he knows who you are."

"I still don't get how I haven't noticed him around here," Marik shook his head and opened the door.

"It's alright, Marik," Bakura whispered, "you'll understand soon enough."


	2. Mirror

_short chapter is short. trust me, it's better this way._

* * *

><p>Marik stepped into the room and eyed the bed. It was made on one side and messy on the other. He looked around the room and took in the sights but was ultimately at loss. He spun around and planted his hands on his hips.<p>

"He's not here," he cried, "you just let him wander around without telling you?"

Bakura grit his teeth and kept his lips together to hide it. "Not exactly," he spoke deliberately, "he kind of does things on his own no matter what I say."

Marik sighed and threw himself onto the bed. "Well, do you have any idea where he is?"

Bakura stepped forward. "I've got a pretty good idea."

Marik sat up abruptly, "really? Tell me!"

Bakura pointed to the side. Marik looked that way and saw nothing but a tall, thin mirror leaning against the wall. He stared at their reflection and frowned.

"There's nothing there, Bakura," he shook his head and spoke in the manner of one talking to a dimwitted child (or the way Bakura often spoke to him). He looked back again, grinning, "it's just a mirro…"

His eyes darkened and Bakura imagined those imaginary headgears screeching as they wound up and began working at an alarming rate. Just as he was welcoming the feeling of their charade finally ending, the depths of the Egyptian's stupidity proved greater than he'd thought.

"Why don't I have one of those in _my_ room?"

All at once the weight that had been lifting from pale shoulders came crashing down. Stunned as he was, he managed only a single word, "What?"

"The mirror!" Marik pointed as though he thought Bakura didn't know what a mirror was, "If I had one of those in my room, I could look at myself first thing in the morning, every _single_ day!" he sighed dreamily, "can you imagine what that would be like, Bakura? Waking up and having my beautiful body being the first thing you see?"

Bakura was at his wits end.

_Yes, I can imagine it, _ he thought about screaming. _In fact, I already have. _

"Oh, oh, oh!" Marik was bouncing again but this time it was the bed taking the brunt of his weight, "and you know what else? I can look at myself before I go to sleep! I can be the first and last thing I see every day! That would be _amazing_!"

_Imagined that, too, _ Bakura thought, though his vision of the Marik he saw before falling asleep was much more sexed up than the one Marik was likely picturing.

Marik glanced at his partner, unaware of his quietness. "What do you use that mirror for, Bakura?"

"Fixing my hair, mostly," Bakura answered hollowly. Unlike his companion, he was not very fond of his own body. It was much too small, much too thin and much too pale… but he did like his hair. "Do you want it?"

"Your hair?" Marik spoke without thinking, as usual. "Oh, you mean the mirror? Really?"

Bakura gave a sad smile in response to the way those pale eyes lit up. "Yeah, it's yours."

"Friggin' sweet!" Marik jumped up and grabbed the mirror, jolting when he attempted to carry it away. "What the… this thing's heavier than the Millennium Rod! And that thing's solid gold!"

Bakura did without reminding Marik he already knew that. "Yes, well…" he approached the mirror and ran his finger along its edge. He found the indent he was looking for, slipped his finger into it, and dislocated the glass. "It's a safe, you see. The mirror's just there to disguise it."

Marik looked at the side and observed the safe to be about eight inches deep. "How did I overlook that?"

Bakura gave an unenthusiastic grin. "You overlook a lot of things, Marik. Here, let me help you…"

"Wait," Marik stepped forward, stopping Bakura from removing the glass. "What do you mean by that?"

Bakura set the mirror down and gave Marik the first honest look of consideration in all their time together. "Come now, Marik, you know you're not the brightest item in the set."

Marik huffed. "That doesn't give you any right to talk to me like that. If I'm overlooking something, why not tell me what it is?"

"I try," Bakura said, then added thoughtfully, "sometimes," he shrugged, "things just don't get through to you very easily, and you know how thin my patience is."

Marik blushed angrily, "so you just accept that I'm an idiot who won't get it and give up on me?"

"Pretty much," Bakura said quietly, attempting to lift the glass again. Marik howled some word that was either 'no' or 'don't' but Bakura had no time to consider it as the Egyptian threw his own arm aside and the gold bands covering his lower arm connected with the mirror, devastating it on contact. The glass was not breakaway so instead of shattering into a glittery rain it cracked jaggedly and the upper half leaned forward, threatening to fall on Marik's head. In the second he had to prevent this, Bakura dropped the remaining half of the mirror and shoved Marik away. The top half fell the floor and splintered into a variety of silver-backed chunks.

Bakura sighed at the display and checked on his partner. Marik had missed the edge of the bed in his stumble and fallen to the floor beside it. Bakura stepped over the mess toward him.

"Are you okay?"

Marik lowered his arm (he'd shielded his eyes in case stray glass flew that way) and gazed over the mess he'd made. In a lesser instance, he'd have sprung to his feet and blamed the whole thing on Bakura before striding off to get the cleaning supplies with his dignity still intact, but even though Bakura had instigated him he knew this was mostly his fault.

"Marik?" the accented pronunciation of his name caught his attention. His mouth was dry, so he licked his lips and swallowed before speaking. In the meantime, he took the hand being offered to him and allowed Bakura to pull him to his feet.

"Baku… urk!" he choked on the name as his body was suddenly against the others and being held tightly. He lifted his own arms shakily, unsure of what to do with them.

"Hold me," Bakura whispered. In a moment of maturity, Marik obeyed without a word.


	3. Camera

"I'm sorry," Marik said after a long silence between them. Bakura looked into his eyes, mildly surprised by the sincerity in his voice, then shook his head.

"I'm just glad you're alright."

Marik frowned and touched a hand to Bakura's forehead. "Are you feeling okay, Fluffy? I figured you'd say 'I only pushed you because I thought you couldn't afford any more brain damage' or something like that."

Bakura gave a crude smile in response to Marik's horrible imitation of his voice. "I would say something like that to you, wouldn't I?"

Marik nodded, "It's not like you to worry about me."

Bakura's temperature rose as he comprehended how close they still were to each other and he opted to sit on the bed's edge. He glanced at the mess and gave a heavy sigh. "We should get to cleaning that up, I suppose."

Marik knelt down and began collecting the larger shards of glass, stacking them atop on another. Bakura watched from where he sat. Once he'd gathered all the pieces that were safe enough to handle, Marik glanced at the remaining half of the mirror which somehow survived being dropped and was resting against the safe.

"You don't want to keep that, right?" Marik pointed to it and turned to Bakura. The spirit shook his head.

"No, it's not of much use now."

"Sure it is," Marik stood up and gripped it by the sides. "I can still use it to…"

For the first time since it'd been exposed, Marik looked into the 'safe'. Without the mirror, it was basically just a tall, thin shelving unit. The shelves themselves were adjustable and the top two contained little of interest; mostly trading cards. What _did_interest the Egyptian was a wooden keepsake box on the fourth shelf which sported an Egyptian-style paint job. At first glance, it looked like a jewelry box, and for all Marik knew that's what it once was, but the top drawer was ajar and the tanned boy could see something familiar inside. He opened the drawer with no regard to whether Bakura was still watching him or not and pulled out a small stack of photos.

The photos on top were of a day trip they'd taken together, most of which were unrecognizably blurry with a few of a very disinterested Bakura (often out of focus, if he was even entirely in the shot). Marik grinned as he admired his 'artistic handiwork', as he'd affectionately called it when the photos had been developed. At the same time, he recalled how grumbly Bakura had been about using disposable camera until their first one became road kill when Marik tried to use it while driving his motorcycle. Fortunately, all that was on _that_were the pictures he'd succeeded in taking of their journey before it had suddenly eluded his grip.

Bakura stood beside Marik now, watching rather edgily as his companion thumbed through the photos. With the initial chunk moved to the bottom of the pile, they now witnessed a variety of images of Marik posing, followed by a handful of scenery shots that were surprisingly crisp.

'What's with all the _flowers_, Bakura?' Marik had asked when they'd first received their prints. The spirit didn't dare try to point out that each one of those pictures was in proper focus and captured the beauty of the foliage quite well despite having been taken with an E£23 camera. He did, however, make an effort to explain to Marik the history behind each flower he'd photographed, which was the reason he'd documented having seen them in the first place. Marik had simply made a face at this and replied, 'if we took pictures of everything with a _history_, there'd be no film left for all these wonderful pictures of ME!'

Flipping through them now with the same disinterest, Bakura hardly noticed when Marik had gone through them all. The Egyptian made no effort to neaten the pile before tucking it back in the keepsake box's top drawer. He grinned at the spirit as he picked up the bottom half of the broken mirror.

"You know, Bakura," he said airily, "if you love flowers so much, you should have become a florist…" he snickered, "people could call you Florist Florence~"

Bakura stiffened and watched as his self-amused flat-mate carried off the remainder of the mirror. With a sigh, he knelt to the floor and picked up the pile of glass shards, wondering what it was about that boy that tickled his fancy so. He was far from intelligent, probably the worst villain ever, and his ego was positively inflated. Not that Bakura would ever go for a gutless, spineless, co-dependent partner – he'd sooner kill an injured puppy than nurse it back to health, after all – but Marik's delusions were endless and made just being in his vicinity a chore.

Before he could reflect further on the closest thing he'd felt to emotions in three or five millennia (depending on whether you're from Japan or America, of course), the object of his regard came back with the necessary items to clean up the rest of the glass. Bakura tossed the larger pieces into the cloth bag his partner presented, then they worked together to sweep up what remained. Once the floor seemed danger-free, Bakura offered to take the bag out but did not mention that he was doing so because he was certain Marik would find some way to hurt himself with it.

With the room to himself, Marik returned to the shelf and pulled out the second drawer. This one also contained photos, the top of which was turned face-down. Marik removed the pile and sat at the foot of the bed, turning it over and being both confused and surprised by what he saw. The picture was one they had taken together; slightly blurry as Marik had been the camera-holder. It was followed by two more that resembled it, then one that was perfectly clear (as Bakura had snatched the camera and told Marik to 'hold still because I'm only going to do this once'. Bakura was smirking (rather than grimacing as he had in the first three), but Marik's expression was a little more forced.

"Stupid Bakura," he said aloud, "I take great pictures."

The next four photos were taken at the Kaiba Land theme park. The first was of Marik wearing a Slifer plushie around his neck (which he had 'won' at that game where you have to pick a certain duck out of the water, only because it was based off of Duel Monsters the toys were various frogs instead of ducks and the game attendant had made the mistake of trying to tell Marik the 'ring' on the frog's belly was just one of its markings, after which Marik had attempted to mind-control him and, conveniently, the poor man's name was Steve, thus Marik chose the largest prize and granted himself with it). The second was an out-of-shot image of Bakura standing beside a cutout of the Dark Necrofear at the entrance to a haunted-house-type attraction. The third was the same photo, though much clearer, as they were conveniently noticed by someone who actually knew how to work a camera.

Bakura walked in as Marik was staring at the fourth photo. In it, the two of them were in the front car of a tacky Blue-Eyes White Dragon themed roller coaster; Marik had his arm around Bakura's neck and was, as usual, grinning like an idiot. Moments before the photo had been taken; however Marik had _not_been grinning or even smiling. He had been quite frustrated with having been forced to leave his Millennium Rod at the entrance to the ride and would not stop complaining despite Bakura's best efforts. Just as the spirit had snapped and decided they were getting off the bloody ride, the attendant caught their attention, held up their camera and offered to take a photo of them together. Almost instantly, Marik's demeanor changed and he had grabbed his 'fluffy' by the neck and yanked him down into the shot. Though Bakura had been irritated by the forceful motion, once the picture was taken Marik completely forgot his grievances and demanded that the spirit settle in quickly so the ride could start.

Marik had started to move the photo aside when Bakura sat on the bed next to him and swiped them from his hands. "Going through my stuff, are we?"

Instead of admitting or denying it, Marik frowned and asked, "Why do you _have _those?"

Bakura grit his teeth, having hoped that question wouldn't come up. With a sigh, he tapped the pictures into an even pile and went to the keepsake box to replace them.

"Bakura," Marik stood up slowly behind him. "That camera was lost. It went missing after we got off that ride, and we never found it."

"I know," Bakura grinned, "how could I forget the way you harassed the bloke who took our picture?"

"I was convinced he kept it!" Marik said, exasperated, "I thought he was being nice, taking the picture for us, but then it _conveniently _goes missing? I mean, it's not like I blame him, we're _gorgeous_, but what kind of _creep _takes pictures of someone for their own personal collection?"

Bakura make a weird sound like a sputtering cough and tried to close the 'door' to the safe, forgetting that it was no longer there. He still said nothing, giving Marik time to calm and shake his head.

"He didn't take the camera, did he, Bakura?"

Bakura sighed. "No, Marik. I took it."

"But, _why_?" Marik whined, "it ruined my whole day it went missing!"

"Marik," Bakura reproved, "you didn't even realize it was gone until we were leaving the park and you wanted to take a picture of the entrance, for some _bloody _reason!"

Marik scoffed, "well, we snuck in without paying, remember? I didn't get to take a picture of it when we _got_ there, so I wanted to take one when we _left_, that way we'd at least have one."

Bakura started to argue that it wasn't necessary either way but quickly caught himself being roped in by Marik's endless stupidity again. "What does it matter now? You've found the pictures, you know they're safe. Shouldn't that be enough?"

"Maybe if we found the _camera_," Marik crossed his arms, "but those photos are _developed_. That means that you not only took the camera, hid it from me and lied about it, but you took the time to get the pictures off it and hide those from me as well."

Bakura growled and took the offensive, only partially lying as he said, "do you want to know why I did it, then? To make you stop taking those _bloody _splatter-paint images that you call photos! I mean, for Ra's sake, you can't even figure out what the camera was _pointing _at in half of them!"

Marik flushed with anger and stretched his arms tensely at his sides, hands now balled into fists. "Why do you _keep_ them, then, if they're that bad?" he shouted angrily, "why not tear them up; throw them away? Burn them, _for Ra's sake_!" Bakura winced as the phrase was thrown back at him and was unprepared for the strangely subdued question that followed, "What's the point in keeping around something that you can't stand?"

The brit lulled his head back and groaned, wondering how it was that such convenient words could leave the boy's mouth. When he returned his attention to Marik, he caught him on the verge of storming out.

"Marik, where are you going?"

"Away from you," Marik tried to be stern but his nasally voice just wouldn't allow it, especially not in this tried state. "I can't take anymore secrets and lies from you today."

"Marik," Bakura chided, stepping forward in an effort to follow his partner without seeming too eager. "Don't you think you're overreacting, just a bit?"

"No," Marik was walking briskly down the hall now while the spirit forced himself not to break into more than a casual stroll. He followed the tanned boy to the parlour and watched as he snatched his motorcycle helmet and keys – two things he somehow managed to never misplace. Bakura deliberately blocked his path as he attempted to storm out, further fueling his childish anger. "Move!"

"I'm not letting you leave, Marik," Bakura replied calmly.

"Why the EFF not?" Marik glared before shoving past, "I don't want to talk to you anymore. Talk to your EFFing boyfriend whenever he gets back!"

"When are you coming home?" Bakura followed him a little less casually this time. They rarely referred to the rat hole of a hideout as 'home', but such things didn't matter at the moment. Marik stopped at the door.

"When you're ready to stop keeping secrets," he answered coldly before leaving without so much as a parting glance.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> 23.77 Egyptian pounds = $4, according to google, so that's why the disposable camera seems so expensive. For fun i also converted it to pounds sterling and i think it was like £2.67_


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